Word: viscous
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...with a light and nutty olive oil. An entree special of duck breast stuffed with figs and walnuts and topped with a fruity wine-reduction sauce manages to successfully navigated the tightrope between savory and overwhelmingly rich. Sauteed spinach counteracts the succulent sweetness of the meat, and the slightly viscous sauce lends itself perfectly to the thick slices of flour-dusted farm bread. Desserts include a rich, dense chocolate cake, sorbet, creme caramel and the old-standby, tiramisu. Creme caramel is almost, but not quite, too sweet, bathed in a delicate sauce of caramelized sugar. Tiramisu is traditional, favoring...
...substance that's essentially dried-up tree resin. The viscous stuff that eventually turns into amber comes from a variety of ancient trees, mostly conifers, including pines and extinct relatives of sequoias and cedars, but also some deciduous trees. It probably evolved, says Grimaldi, as a defense against wood-boring insects. "As it dripped down the bark," he explains, "it acted like flypaper and encapsulated them, hermetically sealing the trees' wounds at the same time...
Brooks, "sick of...poems that cough lightly," said she considers now to be "the time for...stiff or viscous poems." One can find "bigness in a little haiku," she said...
...Golden Age, 1930) remain classics of provocation. For a few years, Lorca and Dali found themselves in a trance of mutually reinforcing narcissism. "The poetic phenomenon in its entirety and 'in the raw,' " Dali wrote of Lorca, "presented itself before me suddenly in flesh and bone, confused, blood- red, viscous and sublime." This was understatement compared with the fervid sexual passion Lorca felt for Dali. Dali, who fanatically denied his own homosexual urges, did not respond to Lorca's passes -- though, he characteristically remarked, "I was very flattered from the point of view of my own prestige...
...standard Moscow taxicab sifts through traffic along the city's Boulevard Ring road on a mild, hazy winter's afternoon. The windows are coated with a viscous film of mud and grit, residue of city snow turned to slush. Wipers, old and misshapen, scrape slowly across the windshield, clearing just enough space for the driver to spot a stout old man waving his hand from the curb. He pulls over. A few words are spoken, an agreement reached. The man and his wife, both wearing dingy overcoats, fur hats and rubber boots, clamber...